


Security

by Relvetica



Series: Wolves [11]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:48:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvetica/pseuds/Relvetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrench didn't know what to say immediately, which itself surprised him; his mind went curiously still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Security

Wrench didn't know what to say immediately, which itself surprised him; his mind went curiously still. Is she pretty? he finally asked.

She's cute, Numbers said. W-A-I-T-R-E-S-S.

Wrench supplied the sign without even thinking, lifting imaginary platters and tracing the shape of a person who wasn't there. He paused again, and he asked, is she Jewish?

No, Numbers said, laughing. S-H-I-K-S-A.

Wrench didn't know the sign for that one, so he just smiled.

I was telling her, egg whites, Numbers said. I don't know why, you weren't there, but I signed 'eggs' while I was telling her. She said, what is that? We talked. I showed her her name.

Wrench tipped a muted 'I see' almost at waist level.

M-E-G, Numbers said.

Not-- Wrench frowned. Don't tell me her name. Private life, off-limits.

Numbers looked a little surprised at that. They _were_ standing in his apartment, what would probably be considered the very center of his private life, but Wrench had stopped considering their homes private in that particular sense the first time one of them had needed to be half-carried back to his. But Numbers nodded. Sorry. You can forget. But I told her a little about you.

What did you say about me?

Little bit. Deaf friend, teaches me sign language. Numbers hesitated, and he added, I hoped before that you two can meet.

No, Wrench signed flatly. Dangerous.

Numbers nodded. You're right. Sorry.

It's fine, Wrench said. He paused. I'm happy you met someone nice.

Numbers nodded. Not many Jewish people in N-D, he said, his face almost apologetic. 

Wrench hadn't been policing on behalf of Numbers' hinted-at family -- he'd just been grasping for something to say -- but he supposed it may have come off that way. He glanced around the living room of Numbers' apartment and asked, you need to hide the guns?

I told her I was private S-E-C-U-R-I-T-Y, Numbers said. 

Wrench nodded, but he said, the rifles?

Numbers glanced back at the half-assembled M4 carbine on the battered excuse for a coffee table. He shrugged and said, under the bed.

I can keep them at my apartment, Wrench said. Wrap them up. We'll take them out to my car when it gets dark. He glanced around again. And anything else illegal, he added.

M-4 is not illegal, Numbers said.

Illegal for _you_.

Numbers rolled his eyes, but Wrench wasn't buying his supposed confusion around AR15 variants anymore. Put that thing back together, he said. I'll get the others.

He was retrieving their seldom-used PSG1 from behind Numbers' coats in his hall closet when he came across his ice axe. He came back into the living room brandishing it and said, this is mine!

Numbers said, you left it in my car.

I didn't put this in your car! I've been looking for it!

Numbers made a 'what do you want from me?' face and said, you left it in my car!

Why would I leave an axe in _your_ car?

I don't know! Numbers said. I don't know why you do half the things you do!

Wrench scowled and pointedly added it to the pile.

I had to clean it! Numbers said. It was gross!

Whatever, Wrench said. He turned his back on him before Numbers could say anything else.

He had no idea if he'd found everything a cute waitress was likely to stumble across in a hitman's apartment, but he didn't want to make more than one trip to where he'd parked. They wrapped the more conspicuous-looking knives in a bathmat and the guns (and ice axe) in a bed sheet, and they trudged out into the chilly evening carrying about fifty years maximum imprisonment and $50,000 in fines between them. The trunk of his car had seen far worse.

He slammed it shut and made sure it had latched properly. Thank you for this, Numbers said.

Wrench shrugged.

I will do the same for you, Numbers said, and Wrench had to make fists inside his coat sleeves before he could reply.

Not if you have a girl here, he said. Need to rent storage then.

Good idea, Numbers said.

Wrench nodded.

You're a good friend, Numbers said. Best friend.

Wrench looked him in the eye for a long moment without expression; that probably seemed strange, but Numbers held it without visible discomfort. Thank you, he finally said.

You're welcome, Numbers said.

Numbers headed back up the block, and Wrench unlocked the car and got in. He slid the key into the ignition but didn't start it immediately; he laid his hands on the steering wheel and stared between them sightlessly so he wouldn't look up at the rear view mirror.


End file.
